Title: Precariously Close
By: Caster
Pairing: David/Bobby
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for the csilabrats Frank Sinatra challenge. It was supposed to be Nick/David (those who are surprised, for shame!) but amazonqueenkate's Bobby love and my muse's own insanity conspired to create... this. Fear me!
Disclaimer: Very much not mine. :)
Summary: Bobby discovers how difficult it is to be in love.

***

If Jacqui Franco ever discovered that Bobby was in love with David Hodges, Bobby was fairly sure she'd grab her chest before falling to the ground, victim to a shock-induced heart attack. He wished he were being over-dramatic. Well, maybe she wouldn't have a heart attack, but she would grab at her chest in that was she always does when she's surprised. Archie would stand completely motionless, stunned. Ronnie –good ol' Ronnie- would raise his eyebrows until they practically met his hairline before asking, "Are you serious?"

And while Bobby shared everything with his friends, he couldn't imagine a casual "I'm in love with David" going over well. Sure, they knew he was gay. They accepted it the moment he told them. Even David, whom he originally expected to be a little narrow-minded, just nodded at his admission before asking, "How long do you plan on standing in front of that coffee maker?" That was over three years ago and they've never been better friends.

Clearly, his being gay wasn't the issue. It was the person he felt those feelings for that concerned him. He had no idea how it begun, or even when, but there was no point in denying that David was the one man he wanted. Why should he? He was rude half the time. No one but his fellow lab rats seemed to like him, he barely talked to his family, and his sketchy past had been difficult to piece together.

But some of these qualities were outweighed by others. Like the fact David could sometimes be so sweet; helping Greg after the explosion and babysitting Ronnie's kids were just for starters. When he started talking about something he was interested in, he went from snarky to almost boyish, genuine smiles punctuating his rushed words. He always changed the subject when a question about L.A. came up, so Bobby could only guess it was a painful time. He couldn't hold that against one of his best friends.

Not to mention that he'd accidentally walked onto David changing in the locker room once or twice. Bobby had fought not to stare at David's lanky form, and he was thankful he'd been able to make casual conversation even while David, completely oblivious to what he was doing to Bobby, went on about some new car that had just hit the market.

The fact that Bobby wanted David wasn't really so bad.

The fact David wanted Nick Stokes was.

…

You can't help whom you fall in love with. Bobby knew this better than anyone, but it didn't help that David spent a good portion of his lunchtime trying to figure what it would take for Nick to say yes to one date. He'd bounce suggestions off Bobby –not constantly, not obnoxiously, but enough to make Bobby lose his mind with jealousy- and sometimes all Bobby could manage to say was, "Well, that doesn't sound like a bad plan." Most the time, he'd try to find a flaw in David's schemes, hoping David would give up and see what was right in front of him.

Like right that very moment. They were sitting in the break room, splitting a sandwich from Subway while David watched Nick over his coffee cup. Bobby frowned as he concentrated on picking off the olives, trying to ignore the ugly head that Jealousy was rearing in the corner of the room. David wasn't being rude, because Bobby knew rude people, like that girl who talked on her cell phone while he tried to order lunch or the guy who took up two parking spaces (he was too lazy to back out and try again). David couldn't help that his conversational skills all but disappeared when Nick innocently walked by to put in fifty cents in the soda machine.

That didn't make Bobby feel any better.

Bobby knew the discussion he and David had been having before Nick came in would have to be continued another time, because David's attention was definitely elsewhere. He took an unenthusiastic bite of his sandwich, his appetite somehow gone, and glanced at David. David never looked at him that way. David didn't see him at all. With a quiet sigh, Bobby turned to watch Nick; he was all Texan, all charm, all sweet laughter and golden skin and perfect hair. How was he supposed to compete with that?

He watched Nick intently, idly wondering how he could somehow make himself more like Nick and less like himself. Dye his hair? Buy a new wardrobe? He was fairly certain David would know something was up. He was also fairly certain that Nick was going to start wondering why two techs were observing him with such scrutiny.

It took a small kick from beneath the table to drag Bobby from his thoughts and back to the man across from him.

"Did you even hear me?" David asked, sounding slightly annoyed as he set down his coffee cup. Bobby was understandably confused. First of all, he wasn't even aware David was capable of speech while in a fifty-foot radius of certain Texan CSIs. Second, he wasn't even aware David had asked a question. Between the olives and the mental makeover, Bobby's focus was on everything except the relevant.

"Hear you?" Bobby echoed, still trying to process it all. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked what you would want to do on a date," David repeated, as though it was a common question between them.

Holy Hell, what? In a perfect world, David would be asking it literally, wanting to know where Bobby would like to go on a romantic night out with him. But the world wasn't perfect; it was messy and ugly and not in Bobby Dawson's favor. Bobby narrowed his eyes.

"What exactly do you mean?"

David glanced towards Nick again, Warrick having joined his friend. Their heads were together as they discussed a manila file in Warrick's hand.

"You and Nick are kind of alike," David replied, training his eyes on Bobby once more. "If there's something you would want to do, maybe he'd like it too."

"You're seriously asking that."

"I seriously am. I believe Jacqui's new title for me is appropriate," David replied, letting out a small laugh and shaking his head. Bobby had to smile at that action. When David wasn't having word wars with Greg or arguing with Jacqui, he was actually very human-ish. He smiled more often with Bobby, able to laugh at himself when he usually hated to fail. His fear of failure worried Bobby from time to time; sometimes it consumed David, and that was unsettling to consider. Bobby wanted to tell him how perfect he was, how smart and funny and –occasionally- sweet, but that wasn't his place. He didn't really have any romantic right to disclose those secrets, so he kept them to himself, waiting for the impossible day he might be allowed to express it all.

"Title? I haven't heard it yet," Bobby admitted.

"She came up with it just this afternoon. 'Cowardly Loser Who Will Die Alone.' It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Bobby winced. Jacqui sure had a way with words. "Ouch. That had to have stung."

David rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think she's getting tired of my pity parties. Not that I blame her. As a matter of fact, I bet you're hating this conversation right now."

Bobby gave him a small smile; he hated it, but not for the reason David thought.

"Well, she might not be so frustrated with you if you actually made a move. Aren't you ever going to tell him?"

Bobby inwardly flinched at the question. Why was he encouraging this? It made him feel sick to his stomach and dizzy in the head. He wanted David to be happy and Nick could undoubtedly do that, but Bobby could do it too. If only David would realize it.

David's expression was incredulous. "Make a move? Bobby, the man had a prostitute sleep with him for free. You can't honestly be asking me that question."

"You think you aren't good enough?"

The expression David wore made Bobby want to reach over and throttle the other man's neck. David had no idea how handsome and funny he could be; he, like everyone else, only saw the negative aspects of his personality. They were all blind. That was the only logical excuse Bobby could come up with.

He didn't mind that David might never know his feelings. He'd accepted that possibility a long time ago. What did bother him was that David might also be on the same boat regarding Nick. Something had to happen, someone had to break, a secret had to be told if David ever hoped to get out of his restrictive box. It was like a glass prison, where David could watch but couldn't really move or communicate.

And it just so happened that Bobby had the jail cell key.

"Hey Nicky!" he called, an alien sensation of adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins as he watched Nick and Warrick jolt from their crime chat. He could practically feel David freeze across from him, but he didn't look to check. If he did, then he'd lose his nerve and he couldn't face that possibility. "I got a question for you."

Nick shot Bobby a warm smile. Once again, Bobby hated himself. Nick was one of the nicest people Bobby had ever met; it was no wonder David was so head over heels. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"What's your idea of a good date?"

Nick was obviously baffled by the inquiry as he exchanged stunned looks with Warrick. David, for good measure, kicked Bobby in the shin again, only with much more force. Bobby fought not to wince, but ow. That was going to leave a bruise the size of Nick's home state.

"I –uh- don't really know. Dinner and a movie?"

"That's certainly nice to know, 'cause David wants to take you out."

There was a distinct sound someone made when they choked on their coffee, and David was making it. Similarly, Nick's eyes were wider than Pluto. And Warrick? Bobby wished he had a camera to capture his expression on film. Bobby himself felt the odd experience of time slowing down as Nick's eyes flickered towards a horrified David and back to Bobby again.

"What are you rats up to?" Nick asked, trying to brush off the awkward silence that descended. What he couldn't ignore was that David was quickly gathering his paper and pouring out the rest of his coffee.

"Don't ask me," David hurriedly replied, unable to meet Nick's eyes. "Too many lonely hours with guns."

With that, he was gone, a blue flash down the hallway before he disappeared around the corner.

Well, Bobby mused. I royally screwed that up.

He cast a look in Nick and Warrick's direction; Nick was fighting to regain a sense of normalcy while Warrick simply glanced at Bobby and then down the trail that David had blazed to the door. He looked back at the bullet technician.

"Huh," he murmured, and Bobby had to love the man. He was so calm, so unsurprised about anything that came his way. "Hodges. Who knew?"

"There's only so long you can watch your best friend yearn, know what I mean?" Bobby asked, as though they were talking about the weather. He smiled at Warrick while putting his mostly-uneaten sandwich in the refrigerator, convinced it was going to be stolen by either Archie or Jacqui before morning. "We told him to tell Nick, but he's got this unhealthy fear of rejection. Sucks for him, sucks for us, 'cause we gotta listen to it. I figured I'd get the ball rollin'."

Bobby wasn't sure when his voice turned so bitter, but he knew Warrick heard it. The CSI was pinning Bobby beneath a curious look, as though he almost understood what was going on. Bobby wouldn't be surprised; Warrick was a CSI and was paid to uncover secrets and truths. Nick, on the other hand, was too dumb struck to do anything but stand there.

"Bobby, you're serious?" he asked, his voice portraying his dazed shock.

"I don't lie about these things, Nicky," Bobby replied, shooting him a painful smile. He wished he could hate Nick, yell at him, explain the opportunity that was being given to him on a silver platter. His problem, though, was that he didn't hate Nick. Nick was a wonderful man: caring, considerate, authentic. How could anyone dislike him? It was just the jealousy making him do crazy things.

He hoped David would forgive him one day.

…

Bobby had been expecting months of non-talking or, at least, insults that were actually meant to hurt. To his dismay (and relief), David walked into his lab four hours later with an expression of utter incredulity.

"You won't believe what happened. I hardly believe it happened. Hell, it might still be the seventies and I'm still high on something."

Bobby wondered whether he should just ignore the fact that he figuratively slung David in Nick's direction. David was supposed to be pissed, not rambling in amazement. He was supposed to ignore Bobby, hate him, and possibly plot his death. David's brush off of what Bobby had done was startlingly unexpected.

"I give. What is it?"

"Nick asked me out."

Bobby's eyes widened and he set down the bullets he'd been fiddling with; evidence could wait, but monumental changes in a friend's life could not.

"Are you kidding me? When?"

"I was just running tests when he came in. I think I started to apologize for your big mouth-'' David inserted a pointed glare and Bobby felt slightly reassured. He didn't expect to get through this ordeal entirely unpunished, and David's glare could be pretty deadly if he was angry enough. "-When he asked me out to dinner."

"Whoa."

"My sentiments exactly."

"So what did you say?"

David groaned at that before shaking his head. Obviously, that part didn't go well. "I think I stuttered through an entire paragraph that vaguely translated into 'yes.' It was humiliating."

"At least you have experience in the humiliation department."

David sent him another less-than-lethal glare. "You and I are going to have to rethink this entire 'friends' thing, because your support? It's not so supportive."

"I try."

"I can see that," David dryly replied. "Anyway, this Saturday morning. Breakfast. Movie. Me and Nick."

Bobby didn't like to fib, but he didn't really have a choice.

"I'm real happy for you," he said, lying between his teeth, wishing he hadn't said anything to Nick in the first place.

…

Swish.

Swish.

Swish.

Bobby sighed.

Swish.

It was Saturday morning. Bobby knew he should be sleeping… only his common sense and what his body chose to do never correlated.

And since he wasn't sleeping but he was in bed, he supposed the only thing to do was watch the ceiling fan turn lazy circles.

Swish.

He glanced at his clock and then groaned, turning on his side before placing a pillow on top of his head. He had to stop looking every five minutes, because it didn't do him any good. Besides, staring at a clock wasn't going to stop Nick and David's first date that morning. He was losing sleep over the mundane; he knew this, but he couldn't seem to help it. He also knew he should be happy for David, because was finally getting what he wanted. At the same time, Bobby couldn't help but berate himself. Months. Years. He had months and years to tell David how he felt, and he had let them slip past because he was just too afraid to see David's reaction. It wasn't fair to David if Bobby just sprung this all on him now. It would make him the worst friend of all time, and even if Bobby officially had no chance with David, he still didn't want to be away from him. He wanted to stay friends.

Even more unsettling was Nick himself. Bobby had tried not to ruminate over this for too long, but he couldn't help wonder why Nick and Greg had broken up. It was no secret that the two had been dating –almost four years, in fact- before they called it quits. What had happened? Bobby had no intention of asking Greg, although it would make him feel a lot better if David knew what he was getting into.

Of course, David was a grown man and could certainly take care of himself. Besides, what was Bobby supposed to say? David, I don't approve of this relationship. He couldn't imagine that going over particularly well. He vaguely wondered what Jacqui and the rest of their lab rat circle thought of this, but he doubted their opinions were going to change David's mind.

Swish.

As the sunrise and spinning fan cast moving shadows across the carpeted floor, a shrill ring broke the serenity of the room. Bobby jumped; he'd been so deep in thought that the familiar sound of his bedside phone had startled him. He glanced at it and resisted his automatic urge to answer. Quite frankly, he was in no mood to talk to anyone, much less a friend who could read him like an open, large-print book. If it was Jacqui, she'd immediately worry over his downtrodden voice (which was almost offending, because he worked so hard to keep it cheerful.) If it was Archie, he'd undoubtedly bring up the fact that Bobby hadn't been hungry for the past week. And Ronnie? Oh, Ronnie was married, which meant he practically had a Ph.D. in emotional distress.

Still, the ringing was annoying in its persistence. He wondered whether he could will it into silence, and then considered just turning the ringer off. Then again, if it were one of his fellow lab rats, his privacy would unquestionably be invaded when they kicked down his door to check whether he was still breathing. It was well known that Bobby always answered his phone, even in the midst of a deep sleep, an interesting movie, or a shower. There was no excuse his friends would buy if he were to simply ignore a call.

Bobby never thought he'd say this, but he sent a silent hope that it was a wrong number as he finally picked up the receiver. "Bobby Dawson speaking," he greeted as he felt the cool plastic against his ear.

"Bobby? Sorry, did I wake you?"

Bobby was instantly alert; there was no way he couldn't recognize that voice. It was David, only it was some side of David he'd never heard before. Why? Because David sounded nervous and Bobby never thought David was even capable of being anything less than calm.

"David? What's up?" he asked, sitting up.

"I figured since you're the gayest of the bunch, you could help." Yup. Definitely nervous. He was asking for help, and that never happened. "Jacqui bought me this… sweater… vest… thing. Don't ask me why. She swears it's okay to wear, but I don't plan on taking her word for it. Of course, it's not like I have anything but work clothes. Or some t-shirt from band camp two decades ago, which probably isn't dating material anyway."

"You askin' for help, David?"

"Uh, yeah. But I don't trust Jacqui or Archie and especially Greg. Of course, you wear those horrendous plaid shirts."

"Oh, shut up. You know those are my work clothes."

"There are some things you just can't get away with, Bobby."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

Five minutes actually meant fifteen, because that's how long it took to reach David's place. They both knew this, but the phrase was used to imply they were leaving immediately. It took ten in the end, considering the traffic was mercifully light, and Bobby didn't even have to knock before David's apartment door was torn open.

"Thank God," David declared, grabbing Bobby's elbow and yanking him inside. "I've come to the realization that I can't dress myself."

"Nice to see you too."

"Panic now, pleasantries later."

"David, there ain't no reason to panic," Bobby replied as David shut the door behind him. "When's Nicky supposed to pick you up?"

"Half an hour."

"Ah. You must be one of those 'works well under pressure' guys."

"You came here to help, remember?"

"So I did. Lead me to your disastrous closet."

David gripped Bobby's arm even tighter and drug him towards the bedroom. Bobby had his fantasies about this particular scene, of course, the one where David wanted Bobby just as badly as Bobby wanted him. The thought made him blush despite the many times he mentally played it out, but a flushed face was the price he'd have to pay for an imaginary seduction.

Bobby had seen the inside of David's bedroom many times for various reasons (none of which were the ones he wanted), so he knew exactly where the closet was and what to expect. It was always clean to the point of near-OCD, but the clothes were… less than desirable. They weren't bad, but they weren't meant for dates, either. Most of them were collared, cotton button ups, and either plain in color or with a subtle stripe design. Bobby knew he had no room to talk, because his attire was pretty hideous, but at least it was… memorable.

"This is all you have?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see David stop his pacing and shoot him an annoyed look.

"No," David dryly replied. "I have a secret stash of decent clothes that I'm keeping from you."

"Ah, the sarcasm returns. What was that thing you were talking about?"

"What thing?"

"Jacqui bought it for you, remember? Lead me to it."

David made a face but sighed and turned towards his dresser. He opened the third drawer before extracting a black sweater vest and holding it up as though it were diseased.

"Don't ask me why," David began, shaking his head. "I know I'm part of the geek squad, but I can't say I've ever worn a sweater vest. Except in the eighties. But that was a bad fashion decade for everyone, so you can't blame me."

Bobby tilted his head as he looked at the soft sweater. It wasn't terrible looking, but he could understand why David would be wary. He nodded and turned back to the closet. He was both struck and unsurprised by the cliché he was illustrating: two gay guys fretting over what to wear. But David Hodges was no cliché; instead, he was uncertain and strong and absolutely hopeless. Bobby wondered why in the world he loved him.

He found what he was looking for: a white shirt with roll up sleeves, buttons down the middle, and a pressed collar.

"Here we go," Bobby said, handing the shirt to its owner. "Black and white's classic. You got any jeans?"

David blinked, apparently disturbed by what Bobby was suggesting, before nodding. "In the fourth drawer," he replied, arching an eyebrow as Bobby headed for the dresser and promptly pulled out the appropriate drawer. He quickly searched through the small collection, disregarding the light colored ones in favor of a dark wash pair hidden at the bottom. They were new –the tags gave them away- and behind him, David snorted.

"Yeah, Jacq gave me those too. I think she's trying to tell me something."

"Huh. I wonder when she'll start on me?" Bobby asked, laughing as he pulled the pair from their place and tossing them to the man behind him. He closed the wooden drawer, listening to David laugh in return; it wasn't necessarily sparkling, but it was rare and beautiful and real.

"I hope it's soon," the trace tech replied, and Bobby was about to turn around with a playful reply when he heard the telltale shuffle of clothes. His hand, which had been touching the dresser handle loosely, was now gripping the handle with force, turning his knuckle white. He closed his eyes and hated himself. He had seen David undress plenty of times –in the locker room, mostly- but this was different somehow. They were alone without the first glass wall, and Bobby wanted nothing more to say Don't go and Stay here with me and All I need's a chance. "God knows half of your shirts should be thrown onto a bonfire and burned to a crisp."

Bobby was trying to concentrate on their little war of wits, but he was actually trying to deduce when it would be safe to turn around. He was pretty sure the original shirt was gone and the white one was on, and now- yep, the sound of a zipper. The original pants were being lost as well; the price tags were being torn off and- okay, the brush of skin against denim and another zipper noise and-

"Bobby?"

The voice drug him from his previous task of concentration and into the then and there. The question was both confused and unsure; the confusion stemmed from the fact that Bobby hadn't turned around the entire time and the uncertainty was based on whether he looked presentable in his current attire. Bobby sent a silent prayer that David would be fully clothed –if he wasn't, Bobby wasn't quite sure what he'd do- and turned around.

Bobby stopped, eyes flickering over David's form before he smeared on a look-at-me-I'm-your-best-friend-and-nothing-more smile. It was a painful motion, because all Bobby wanted to do was simply sit and admire him before taking off the new clothes and admiring him even more. "You look perfect," he promised. Why was it so hard to speak? "Trust me."

"And you're sure I don't look like a dork?" David asked, disbelieving. Bobby nodded vigorously.

"Positive," he honestly replied; between the well-fitting jeans and the way the sweater outlined his torso, he doubted anyone would even think such a thing. "You got your wallet and keys?"

David practically leapt into the living room to gather those items, making sure he had enough cash and a key to both his car and front door. It was almost… endearing… to see David so excited and anxious. In an ideal world, it would be Bobby causing those feelings, but the world was far from perfect, and Bobby found himself leaving David's apartment before Nick was scheduled to arrive. Naturally, he wished his friend luck first, but didn't mean a single word of it.

Twenty minutes later, Bobby was back in his own bed again, trying to fall asleep. He was more successful this time; he had taken two Tylenol PMs for his stomach, and as the pills finally kicked in, he knew he'd have to get past this if he ever hoped to feel good again.

…

One month into it, Bobby was beginning to worry about himself. Just how long did he plan on moping at home? There was only so long you could get away with it until someone began to notice. With his luck, of course, not just one person noticed: three people were beginning to recognize an odd pattern. If David and Nick joined them for breakfast, Bobby was too tired to tag along. If David and Nick joined them for dinner at Ronnie's house, Bobby already had plans. If David and Nick joined them for movie morning, then Bobby had Something Else To Do. It was never when David or Nick decided to hang out with the lab rats separately, but if they were together, Bobby always had a reason for not being there.

And that just wasn't like him.

Jacqui, Archie, and Ronnie hadn't been concerned at first. They were only technicians, not CSIs, and they were trained to recognize chemical compounds, striations, letter slants, arches, and footage variations. They weren't trained to pick up on the human element or tiny details, but the clues Bobby were inadvertently leaving behind weren't exactly subtle; as a matter of fact, every passing night made them clearer and clearer in the eyes of his friends. It was only a suspicion at first, but the small nagging voice became an immense bellow, one that asked Is it only coincidence that Bobby never hangs out with David and Nick?

Coincidence? There was no such thing.

But they had no hard proof to support their little hypothesis, so the nights passed as they always did: Bobby smiling and laughing like the cheerful man he was while simultaneously avoiding David and Nick as much as he could. By then, Jacqui had been watching him like a hawk, and she didn't like what she was seeing. One night in the break room, David and Nick had walked in; a few seconds later, Bobby had poured out the rest of his coffee and excused himself, citing numerous bullets in dire need of processing. Jacqui, however, was a shrewd woman and knew Bobby had very little evidence to work with. Something was off; she knew it, Archie knew it, Ronnie knew it, and even David watched him go with an uncertain expression, as if wondering what he'd done to offend the other man.

It wasn't until a week later that Jacqui finally dreamt up a plan to test her theory; it was quite genius if she did say so herself. (Which she did. Repeatedly.) Halloween was quickly approaching, and if there was one holiday that she actually liked, it was Halloween. How can you beat a night of dressing up and endless candy? And how much more fun is it when it's spent with friends, a few Mystery Science Theater movies, and a bowl of fun-sized Milky Ways?

So she arranged the small get-together at her place. Ronnie came dressed as a pirate, which meant wearing an old shredded t-shirt and an eye patch (a costume undoubtedly suggested by his kids.) Greg came as a quasi-showgirl, Archie came as La Forge from the Enterprise, Bobby showed up with a cowboy hat and boots, and Jacqui threw on an old prom dress (amazingly, it still fit) and smeared on some black eye shadow and pale powder. She was the Zombie Prom Date because, yes, she rocked that much.

Nick and David had declined costume; they did, however, bring food to make up for it. Not surprisingly, they were welcomed with open arms, but that wasn't what Jacqui had noticed.

The moment they showed up, Bobby had stilled.

Jacqui was never one to guilt trip, but she was beginning to feel a little sick to her stomach. The only reason Bobby had come was because she had mentioned Nick wouldn't be able to make it. She knew it was a lie, but she also knew Bobby would have declined her invitation otherwise. Bobby glanced at them before glancing at her; their eyes met for a moment, and his pain was evident in his expression. What was going on? And why?

Bobby felt his stomach drop. It was just like Jacqui to pull a stunt like that and he was suddenly struck with a sickening realization: all of his acting, his excuses, and his careful avoidant strategies were useless. Had he been transparent? Had Nick or David noticed? He was no Julliard graduate, but he'd been trying, damnit. He'd been putting an exhaustive amount of effort into making sure no one picked up on his behavior while simultaneously juggling work and obligatory social functions.

He broke his gaze away from her made-up face and back to where David and Nick were placing their groceries on the dining room table. What was he supposed to do now? He was trapped there for at least an hour -he couldn't leave any sooner lest he risk being rude- and, apparently, stuck watching David be happy.

He turned back towards the sink, where he'd been washing an apple. He couldn't be mad at Jacqui. She didn't know about how he felt, and he certainly hadn't told her. Sure, he wanted to be upset with her, furious even, and although she'd practically guaranteed that the party would be void of certain Texans, it appeared as though her prediction was false. And now he found himself in an incredibly odd situation: he was uncomfortable around his favorite people while resenting David's happiness. Who knew such a day would ever come?

Okay, he didn't resent the fact that David was happy, but he resented that his friend's contentment came from being with a man whose name wasn't Bobby Dawson. Throughout the month, he had watched David laugh more than usual, and he knew that laughter came from having a relationship with Nick. He was glad that David was finally becoming comfortable in his own skin (it had taken three years to get him that way), but it was still unbearable from Bobby's viewpoint.

He watched the clear water rush over the red apple, lost in a maze of endless thoughts. Something still nagged at him. Something was… off.

Because when David wasn't laughing, he was frowning with intent. You can't laugh all the time; Bobby knew that, and he knew David used his laughter sparingly, but he still seemed so… withdrawn. Bobby would watch him in the break room sometimes, and David would stare at the tabletop while running his index finger in a circular pattern, obviously astray in his own barrage of mental musings. His expression was always a strange mix of concentration and distance, and Bobby had a feeling it somehow involved Nick.

He clutched the apple harder. Something was bothering David, although he was trying to hide it. Maybe bad acting was a lab rat quality; Bobby's attempts to smoothly evade Nick and David were terrible and David was hiding his discontent poorly. Nick wasn't hurting David, was he? No, that couldn't be it. It was Nick, for crying out loud; the man wouldn't hurt a fly, much less his own boyfriend. Maybe he was cheating on him. That didn't seem like a liable possibility either, because Nick just wasn't like that. Maybe-

"You know, it's clean by now," came the amused voice of one Greg Sanders. Bobby gave a small jump before lurching to turn the water off. How long had he been standing there like an idiot?

"I must've spaced out," Bobby murmured, and Greg shot him a disbelieving look.

"Must've? You've only been washing that thing for the past three minutes. You know, between you and me, I'm beginning to think Jacqui's worry isn't totally tenuous. You haven't been yourself."

"Greg, you're wearing glitter eye shadow and lip gloss. You can't tell me about worry when you're half a cross dresser."

"Hey, I already had the headdress."

"A likely story."

"Whatever you say, cowboy. Now take a look: we're alone in the kitchen, completely unheard. Wanna tell me what's going on? Contrary to popular opinion, I can listen."

"You mean you can stop talking? Wow. I don't think I've seen that actually happen before," Bobby playfully replied, turning and leaning against the sink as he took a bite of his apple.

"Oh, ha ha. Let's give Comedian Dawson a round of applause."

"I'll be here all week."

Greg smiled and rolled his eyes before focusing his attention back on his friend. "Skirt it all you want, Bobby, but I won't let it go. Tell me what the problem is. Maybe we can work it out."

Bobby gave a small laugh and shook his head. "This can't be worked out, Greg."

"So you're admitting there's a dilemma?"

"I ain't copping to anything."

"Then you've given me no other option but to guess," Greg theatrically announced, rubbing his chin in an exaggerated indication of deep thought. "Choices, choices. Is it… financial troubles?"

Way off, Greg. "Nope."

"Family troubles?"

In a way, I guess. We're all family here. "Nah."

"Boy troubles?"

You could say that. "Nope."

"Nick and Dave?"

Damn. "What?"

Greg broke into a self-congratulatory grin before crossing his arms in an I-knew-it-all-along manner. "C'mon, you've been avoiding them like the plague. You've been a little obvious, my friend."

Bobby winced. "Has anyone else noticed?"

"Um, yeah?"

Bobby looked down in embarrassment, wishing Archie's beloved Captain Kirk could beam him away, when Greg spoke again.

"Wanna know something?"

Bobby glanced up, frowning at Greg's new tone. It was soft, hurt, and heavy with regret. He set the apple onto the counter, forgotten, as he gave his friend a concerned look.

"Greg?" he queried, frowning. "You okay?"

"I hate it too," came the reply, his voice nearly breaking on the word 'too.' Bobby froze; what did Greg mean? What was he saying? "I don't hate that they're happy," the young man continued. "I just… I used to be with Nick, and it's so hard to watch him be with anyone else."

And so Greg stood, removing his headdress and holding it with gloved hands, looking at Bobby with brown eyes framed in sparkles and lips shining beneath the kitchen light. And somehow, in his honesty, he didn't look ridiculous or weird at all.

He looked human. He looked like he understood exactly how Bobby felt.

And Bobby suddenly knew he had to do something if things were ever going to be genuine again.

***

It took a week for Bobby to decide what to do, although the decision itself had been easy. Gathering the courage to go through with it, on the other hand, was more difficult. He had been in a constant struggle with himself, caught between You have to do this and You have no right to interfere. The more he thought about it, the more his resolve would slip… and then he'd see David across the hall or talk to him in the break room, and the determination would return stronger than ever.

He supposed he would have never acted at all had Nick and David not walked into the bullet lab together. The lab was his friend in a way, his home, his sanctuary, and he wanted to tell them to get out. They had no permission to invade what was his, although they actually had every reason in the world to stroll right in. David was explaining something to Nick, something about chemicals and a flecky silver substance found on the suspect's dress; they were just standing too close together for Bobby's comfort, and the nagging voice in his head –the one that chanted Leave it alone, they're happy, you have no right- was drowned out.

The timing was also a pretty critical component to what Bobby did next. The fact was this: David was busy, and he had the chance to say hello to Bobby, goodbye to Nick, and then get back to his work. He had left the bullet lab quickly, determined to get to the bottom of the evidence pile if it killed him (David feared it would, because there were more fibers and flecky things then usual) and Nick was standing right there, he and Bobby were alone, and Bobby had a feeling that this was the only time they'd ever get to have a private conversation within the next year.

"Hey Nick," he said, smiling at the Texan from where he sat in front of a monitor. He expected to be nervous, but that anxiousness never came. As a matter of fact, he felt calmer than he had in quite a while.

"Hey Bobby," Nick greeted in return, shooting Bobby one of his patented smiles. Bobby paused for a moment, fighting down the inner resentment. It was no wonder David fell so hard for this guy; Bobby briefly wondered if he worked to get his smile so bright and friendly that maybe David would fall for him too. Huh. For some reason, he just couldn't see it happening. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk about David," Bobby replied. He kept surprising himself. Usually he'd beat around the bush, but this was neither the time nor the place to lose his nerve.

Nick stopped what he was doing and turned to Bobby, giving the man his full attention. Bobby found it difficult to read his expression, although he could see a subtle mix of worry and trepidation on the CSI's face.

"What about him? Did he say something?"

Bobby took a deep breath. It was now or never, all or nothing, and he couldn't chicken out now.

"I'm one of his best friends," Bobby started, momentarily wondering how long that title was going to last when David discovered what he'd done. "So you can understand that I'm… hesitant. I mean, we all want to make sure he doesn't get hurt. And it's not you specifically- this kind of applies to anyone. We- I want to make sure that you're really serious about him."

Nick's eyes were slightly wide and Bobby was almost certain he'd take offense. To question one's intentions was a big step, especially with someone Bobby was so friendly with.

"Bobby, of course I'm serious."

"You understand where I'm coming from, right?"

Nick blinked, as though trying to wake from some bizarre dream. "I- yeah, sure. I totally understand."

"You're not still in love with Greg, are you?"

There was another pause, although this one was heavier and a little more hostile. Nick's eyes focused, meeting Bobby's for a moment.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Greg," Bobby repeated. He didn't look away from Nick's near-angry expression. He knew what he was doing was risky business, knew his circle of lab rat friends were probably going to kill him. He'd hate if they got into his personal life, but what did they expect him to do? Sit and watch Nick and David fail from the sidelines? He had to stop it. He was risking everything; he knew that, and it still wasn't enough for him to try and hide. He just wanted David to be happy, even if it wasn't with him. David couldn't possibly live happily ever after if Nick was still in love with someone else.

"I don't think that's any of your business," Nick replied, crossing his arms and frowning.

"It is if David's involved. If you're over Greg, then that's great. That's wonderful. But if all Greg has to do is smile in your direction and your knees get weak, then we're going to have a problem."

"Bobby-''

"Please, Nick. Just think about it. Just make sure, okay?"

There was another pause; less hostile but equally as heavy.

"Bobby, I… you can't just be doing this out of friendship, can you? Because not even Jacqui's come up to me like this," Nick slowly said, giving the tech an inquisitive look. Bobby swallowed before meeting Nick's eyes once more. How did he recognize it? How did he see it? Did everyone see through him? Was that why Jacqui was trying to be so wise? Why Archie was so supportive? Why Ronnie had invited him to have dinner with his family three times that week? Was he really so transparent?

"I'm just looking out for him, Nick."

Nick's expression was one of understanding and Bobby fought not to throw up. "There's a difference between protection and jealousy."

"Please don't tell him."

"I'd never do that, Bobby," Nick promised, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "But maybe you should. There's only so long you can keep that inside."

"You're so lucky to have him."

Nick's face was somber. "I know that, Bobby. He's a great guy, but have you…" He trailed off, unsure whether to continue. Bobby's nod was all he needed to go on. "Have you ever felt there's only one person that you're supposed to be with?"

"Greg?" Bobby guessed.

"I'm sorry. I thought I was over him. I never considered- I wasn't using David, if that's what you're asking. I didn't know."

"I know that, Nick. You'd never intentionally hurt anyone."

Both were quiet for a moment, allowing the sounds of the lab to float between them. Nick finally looked up and gave Bobby a half smile. "How long have you been in love with him?" he asked, and Bobby considered playing dumb before realizing this was too important to try and dodge.

"I don't know," he confessed. "But that feeling you have, the one where you think there's only one person in the whole world for you? I feel that way."

Neither had to say anything, because they both knew how terrible of an experience that could be.

…

"What did you do?"

The question wasn't angry or accusatory… it was icy, filled with loathing. Although Bobby had been expecting the query, he still couldn't stop his inward flinch or the way his heart plummeted to his chest, a small, shriveled version of what it once was. He swallowed but didn't turn from his microscope, hoping to play it off and act natural.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, but frowned when he heard no response and turned to see a stoic David Hodges standing in his bullet lab entrance. He should have known he couldn't play dumb; he had never been able to pull the wool over David's eyes before. Why did he think he could succeed this time?

"Don't bullshit me, Bobby," David snapped, his voice now tinged with fury but his eyes just as cold. "I saw you talking to him. What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything," Bobby whispered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I don't even know what you're-''

"The hell you didn't!" David yelled, stalking towards him. "He broke up with me, Bobby. Today, in my own fucking lab! He told me some story about Greg and what he realized he was doing. He was using me?"

Bobby closed his eyes. What had he done, exactly? What did he hope he could have accomplished with his plan? Sure, Nick and Greg were on the road to happiness –he'd seen them in the parking lot just an hour ago, laughing as though nothing had changed- but where was David? Had Bobby been hoping that he could be rebound? That David could see something in him that he hadn't seen in Nick?

"I just didn't want-''

"So you did do this! God damnit, Bobby, what the hell were you thinking? Did you realize all the loopholes I had to go around and the hoops I had to jump? Nick finally says yes and you tell him to scram? For what, so Greg could be happy? Because I don't fucking deserve it?"

Bobby swallowed. There was an unfamiliar sheen in David's eyes, as though he were fighting back tears of anger or frustration or hate. Perhaps all three.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice falling flat, his words lame. "I never meant… this wasn't how it was supposed to happen."

"What was the hell was supposed to happen, Bobby? Did you expect your little plan to work in my favor?" David asked, infuriated and exasperated.

"I'm sor-''

"I know you're sorry, but what does that change? What were you trying to do?"

"David, I-''

"Fuck, don't even talk to me. I don't know why I'm here," David hissed, spinning around to leave again. Bobby's heart was shriveling up as he groped for the right thing to say; without thinking, his arm shot out and he grabbed David's shoulder. David turned at the contact, obviously angry and incensed words at the tip of his tongue, but Bobby spoke first.

"Why couldn't it be me?"

"Why couldn't what be you?"

"Why couldn't you like me instead?" Bobby asked, his voice soft. "Did you honestly think that Nick didn't love Greg? Or that you could make him forget that he loved him? I could see your relationship fail from miles away, David. It was inevitable. It was going to crash and burn and you didn't see that. You didn't want to see that. You completely ignored all the signs and I just didn't want to see you get hurt."

There was a silence between them before Bobby spoke again, taking note of David's dazed expression with a small, bitter smile. "And you never saw me at all. I gave you all the signs. I tried everything I could think of, so I figured if you and Nicky split, I could… I don't know. Be your rebound or something."

For a moment, Bobby thought David wouldn't respond. Finally, the other man was able to echo, "Rebound?"

"See, the thing is I'll get you anyway I can. And if you were using me as rebound, even if I knew it, I'd still take it anyway, for however long you wanted me. Anything you're willing to offer I would accept with open arms."

David's anger had seemingly melted away, replaced only by pure and utter shock. He took a step back, opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again, unable to speak.

He turned and quickly left the bullet lab, practically fleeing.

…

Now that Christmas was there, Bobby wasn't in much of a festive mood. He bought the gifts, decorated the tree, and played the carols, but no amount of holiday cheer was going to help him. He was fairly certain the only thing that was going to get him out of his funk was 1) If David started talking to him again, or 2) If Jacqui made that delicious cherry pie she was famous for. But even the thought of baked goodness couldn't change the fact that two miserable months had passed, and David was barely speaking to him. He wanted to be angry, but he was just angry with himself. Why couldn't he control his feelings? He usually didn't have a problem with it.

He wasn't sure how things were going to go when he knocked on Jacqui's door, armed with some extra napkins and a bottle of wine. He and David would be forced into the same room for at least two hours; they were going to have to talk or Jacqui was going to kill them. He preferred to stay alive, but it might not be an option by the end of the evening. He wanted to pretend that his stomach wasn't churning or that it hadn't taken him half an hour to decide on what to wear. What he did want was to turn back time so that he never stuck his nose where it didn't belong, so that David would be happy, and so that Bobby would still be able to share Subway sandwiches with David while conspiring against whatever entity had tread on their bad side that night.

The door opened to a somewhat frazzled-looking Jacqui. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek by way of greeting.

"I brought wine and napkins."

"Napkins? Bobby, you're a saint," she replied, quickly opening the door wider. "I swear if Greg spills one more thing-''

To illustrate her complaint, a crash was heard in the kitchen. She cast a horrified look towards the sound before whispering, "I'm going to run out of plates before this mornings's over with."

"Aw, don't worry. I'm sure Greg won't mind eating off the floor."

Jacqui quirked an eyebrow, giving Bobby the distinct impression that she wouldn't give Greg a choice in the matter. "That's not a bad idea, Bobby. See, you can think evilly. My influence is finally showing!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Satan's popping open a bottle of celebratory champagne as we speak, Jacq."

"Hardy har har. You know, you're starting to sound like David."

Bobby paused at the name before sending her a pleading look. Even through all his mental preparation, nothing could seem to calm the war inside his chest. David was there, in that house, and Bobby didn't know whether he had the guts to face him. "Is he here?" he softly asked. "I think I'd better go."

"Get your ass in here, Dawson," she ordered, glancing over her shoulder before dragging him through the doorway and towards her bedroom, quickly tossing the napkins and wine onto the couch. She stopped as they found themselves in the empty alcove, pinning him beneath an analyzing gaze while Archie and Ronnie's laughter floated from the kitchen and throughout the house.

"So, you've made a mess of things," she surmised, and Bobby gave a defeated sigh before flopping onto her bed. "You're both acting like children. You can't be in the same room without things getting weird, and neither of you will tell us what's going on. Of course, two months of this gave us a pretty good idea."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"You're an incredible actor, Bobby," she admitted. "I don't know how you managed to hide your feelings so well."

"Chalk it up to experience," he muttered.

"Three years worth?"

"Does this have a point?"

She rounded on him, shooting the bullet tech an angry frown. "Of course it does! We used to be a tight-knit group, Bobby! We used to be able to tell each other everything, and now we can either spend our time with you or David, but not both. It's hurting us, and it's hurting you. You have to fix this."

"How? How do I fix something irreparable?" he angrily snapped back. "I've screwed up, Jacqui. This can't be patched up with an 'I'm sorry'."

"If you're really the friends I think you are, then it isn't irreparable. It's messy and it's complicated, sure, but it's not impossible."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "I broke off his one good relationship. I piled all my feelings onto him. I made things unworkable for us, and now I'm hiding in your bedroom so I won't have to see him on Christmas. This is way worse than a 'think of something, Bobby' speech can repair. I'm just so… selfish."

"Bobby, wanting something doesn't make you selfish. It makes you human."

"Jacqui-''

"No more excuses, Bobby," she declared, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and dragging him towards the dining room (having dealt with men, she was highly skilled in the art of dragging people against their will), which led to the back porch. "You can make this right again, because we're all best friends and that includes you two. And hey, here's an idea: tell him how you feel. Discuss emotions. Talk."

"Don't you dare-''

Instead of listening, she grabbed the sliding door handle that revealed access to her back porch. She yanked it open, shoved Bobby out onto the concrete patio, and quickly closed it again, making sure Bobby could hear the lock engage. He gave a dismayed sound.

"Jacqui Franco, you'd better open this door right this very inst-''

"It's no use," came a voice, and Bobby turned to see David sitting on the steps and watching the beginnings of the sunrise. "I've been out here for the past fifteen minutes, and may I say you took your precious time getting here."

Bobby swallowed and then banged his fist against the glass. No one came to let him back in.

"I don't understand why my arrival time has anything to do with you being kicked out," he replied, seething at the fact that they'd been locked out of the house. Traitors. They were all traitors.

"It's Jacqui's way of getting us to settle our differences."

"She realizes we can just leave, right?"

"Leave?" David echoed, glancing up at him from his seat. "That would mean giving up, which would mean losing our group. I'm not going to let that happen. Are you?"

Bobby was dismayed for a moment, startled by David's beautifully truthful words. He gave up his fruitless attempt of gaining access back into the house and made his way to the steps.

"No," he conceded, finding a semi-comfortable place as far away from David as the stair width would allow. "I'm not either."

"Good. I'd hate for you to start becoming selfish on me," the other man replied, and Bobby felt the uncomfortable sting hit his chest. He deserved that, mainly because it was true. He'd never been so self-centered before and he wasn't quite sure what drove him to it.

"Yeah," Bobby softly agreed. He closed his eyes; they were sitting together, watching the sky begin to light, and he actually didn't want to be there. Before the entire Nick catastrophe, Bobby would have paid with his own appendages for a moment like this, and now he wanted nothing more than to escape. He knew he could never have David and what use was there to amplify that pain? He gritted his teeth. He was so sick of guilt.

"I'd better go," he announced, rising up from his seat. "Tell Jacqui I'll see her at work."

"You said you wouldn't-''

"Let this come between our friends? I won't. David, I know I messed up. I ruined everything for you, and that's unforgivable. But if you can still bear to hang out with me, then I think we'll be okay. That's all she wants, right? Is for us to be friends? You don't have to feel genuine friendship towards me, but faking it while everyone's around might make her happy. You're a good actor."

"What? Bobby, no-''

"You'll have to make it believable, of course, 'cause she can see through most of our lies. I know she saw right through mine."

"Bobby, shut up," came the quick retort, although it didn't hold the anger Bobby was expecting to hear. "We were both wrong. We both did things and said things that we aren't proud of, but it's not a stigma. We won't have to carry this around forever. Everyone makes mistakes, and besides, you were right."

"I was right about what?"

"About me and Nick. I knew he still loved Greg, but I… I don't know. I guess I was hoping he'd forget and see me instead. I shouldn't have. I was being an idiot."

"So was I," Bobby countered. "I knew talking to him about it would be the end of you two. This is a big mess."

David let out a short, stark laugh and the nodded in agreement as he bundled his coat around him and glanced up at Bobby from his place on the porch steps. The sun was just peeking over the horizon. "You can say that again. It's a nightmare, Bobby, and I still don't understand why you would want… anything with someone like me."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a million times," Bobby quietly replied, looking at the sun for himself; he was far too afraid to look anywhere else. "I love you. I would be with you for as long as you'd let me."

"You never said anything."

"You never said anything to Nick," Bobby pointed out. "It took a Subway sandwich, a cup of coffee and my big mouth to get you two together."

"But you're different," came the argument. "We're friends. I'm supposed to know every secret of yours."

"Do I know your every secret?"

"I don't have any."

Bobby scoffed. "That's a lie if I've ever heard one, David Hodges."

"I might have a few, but nothing like the one you were keeping."

"It's not a secret," Bobby corrected, plopping back down on the step. "You just didn't ask."

"If we had to ask, where would we be? People have to figure stuff out, find out what their friends and family want. Other times we have to earn it, and then other times we just have to take it. We can't ask for everything," came the reply, and Bobby knew he was right. Civilizations didn't progress with questions alone; if an army advanced towards a country's border, that country didn't ask the army to leave them alone. If there was a revolt, the King didn't ask the people to please stop. If there was a new tax, the working class didn't ask for the government to take it back. Progress came from questions, sure, but it also came with force and determination.

This theory applied to all things but one.

Because Bobby couldn't force David to love him, but he could ask.

"Sometimes we can," Bobby whispered, marginally leaning in. "If I were to ask you for a kiss, would you give it to me?" David turned his head slightly, and blue eyes met brown. "Just one?" Bobby continued, in hopes the tiny number would be some sort of incentive.

"Bobby, there are a lot more attractive people out there than me, I promise you. Why would you even want to…"

He trailed off when he caught sight of Bobby's expression. It was a mixture of embarrassment and shame.

"You're right," Bobby muttered. "That was really inappropriate. I'm sorry I'm just throwing this all at you. You'd think I'd know better, right?" Bobby rose again, refusing to meet David's eyes.

"Well, I think I'll head home. It's only a little while until shift starts again," he said, the words sounding strange on his tongue. They were almost friendly, akin to what he would have said two months ago when he and David were still on best-friend terms. Bobby realized with a sickening jolt that he and David weren't ever going to be like they were, and that made him nauseous and upset and hateful towards himself. He caused this foreign gap between them; it was his fault, and there was one no one else to blame.

He didn't look back; he knew he couldn't do it without stopping or apologizing again. All he wanted was to get away from the house, from Nick and Greg, from David. He had tried everything. He offered every opportunity. And after a while, after you've exhausted all your resources, wasn't there a time you just gave up? His feet moved quickly over the ground, and he watched the sand and grass crunch beneath his shoes as he all but raced towards his truck. He hated surrendering. He loathed defeat. But he wasn't stupid (well, maybe a little) and it was time to just let it go.

He'd tried.

He'd given it his best.

And that was all he could ask of himself and of David.

His hand was hovering over the truck's door handle when a hand clamped on his shoulder and spun him around. "Bobby, wait," David gasped, leaning against Bobby's SUV to regain his breath. "Christ, you move fast when you want to."

"It's a gift," Bobby replied, eyebrows raised as he stood in front of the driver-side door, a bundle of keys in hand. He didn't even remember what half of them went to anymore, but they, like books and records and old photos, just weren't things he could manage to get rid of.

"Were you serious?"

Bobby blinked, not understanding the question. "About it being a gift?"

David rolled his eyes, and Bobby smiled at the familiar gesture. "No. The thing… what you said on the porch."

Bobby didn't have to be reminded about his request on the porch: one kiss. One simple kiss. He felt like such a teenager, awkward and clumsy, clamoring for David to accidentally touch his hand when they exchanged saltshakers or give him one tiny peck on the lips on Christmas.

Bobby smiled before looking away, hoping the violet sky dulled his blush. "What do you think?"

"I can't guess, Bobby," David replied, and his voice sounded so serious that Bobby looked back within the moment. He swallowed when he saw David standing right there, face tinted pink with cold, blue eyes puncturing and dark hair peppered with random streaks of silver. Still, when he smiled –rare but amazing- he looked so young and full of the life he had before he moved to L.A. "If there's one thing you know about me, it's that I can't jump from one speculation to the next. You have to lay it out in black and white."

Bobby swallowed again as he watched the Earth begin to spin around him like a Disney ride. "Of course I was serious, David. I don't lie about these things."

David was quiet for a moment before smiling derisively, as though berating himself for thinking such a thing. Bobby Dawson knew David Hodges inside and out, but that worked both ways. Bobby was the last man on the planet to manipulate or trick someone.

"No," he finally agreed. "You don't." There was another pause, although it was tinged with hesitance this time. Finally, "Can I change my answer?"

"Answer?" Bobby asked, quickly squashing the growing hope that was rising in his chest. He couldn't get his hopes dashed… again.

"You asked and I answered. Badly, may I add. Now I want to change my mind."

"I… are you serious?"

"I don't lie about these things," David parroted, smiling slightly when Bobby gave a quick, nervous laugh. "But I'm not very good at it, so I'm giving you ample time to reconsider."

"What, you're not good at kissing?" Bobby asked, genuinely surprised. "With that tongue of yours? You've got to be kidding me."

David scoffed. "Try me. I've lost more- hey!"

Bobby knew what David was going to say; as a matter of fact, he wouldn't be surprised if David started on an entire tangent, avoiding his original purpose. Bobby wanted to cease that as quickly as he could. To solve this, he reached out, grabbed David's shoulders, and spun them around, reversing their positions and pressing David's back against the side of the car in a surprisingly swift move. He pressed his hands against either side of David's head, framing the other man's startled expression.

"I made up my mind," Bobby said, answering the unspoken question of What the hell? with a simple response.

"Oh," David managed to weakly reply. "I… don't you think this is going to be weird?"

It was a logical question. Considering the man who was asking, Bobby wasn't surprised. However, he couldn't deny that this might possibly be an embarrassing, terrible kiss that would only complicate their relationship down the line. But Bobby was willing to take that chance, and considering David wasn't shoving him away, Bobby was fairly certain David was too.

Bobby merely smiled and leaned in close. He heard David's breath hitch in apprehension.

"Maybe," Bobby replied, slightly amused that David, usually so prepared and impervious, would be so anxious at the thought of a first kiss.

Bobby didn't give David the chance to respond; he merely closed the distance between them, barely touching their lips together, waiting for David to indicate whether he wanted to further things.

A terrifying moment passed where Bobby felt no pressure in return. He wanted to make David nervous with butterflies, not uncomfortable. It was, understandably, horrifying on Bobby's end, not to mention disappointing. It's what he had craved for quite a while; he didn't blame David for not feeling the same way, but he couldn't help but try to memorize this very moment. He was kissing the man he'd wanted for three years, a man he'd inadvertently fought for, a man whose life he'd made pretty miserable the past few months, and while Bobby felt the spark when their lips touched, David obviously didn't.

There was nothing he could do.

"Sorry," he whispered, breaking away, eyes glued to the sandy ground. There had been no response to the kiss, no indication of any sort, and Bobby just wished the ground would take pity on his pathetic life and swallow him up. He didn't know why he was apologizing, although David could probably make a list a mile long. For breaking he and Nick up? For pursuing him so obviously? For piling on his feelings without asking David's permission? For asking for a kiss that David obviously didn't want to give? Yeah, those were all valid points, and Bobby knew it was about time he start considering them. If one plan didn't work, you had to move to another one, and Bobby knew that's what he had to do: move on. He'd gotten his quasi-kiss, David wasn't punching his lights out, and if Bobby squinted at the situation, he knew he couldn't complain about the outcome.

"What are you apologizing for?" came the whispered question. And before Bobby knew what was happening, David reached out, placed warm hands on the back of Bobby's neck, and pulled him in for another kiss.

It was far more than a mere touch of lips this time. It was hot, tongues exploring with only a minimum amount of hesitation at the beginning. Bobby's brain was becoming instantly fried. David tugged Bobby even closer, their bodies flush together.

Bobby felt elated, fighting off the numbness that threatened to stem. He was rebound; there was no other explanation of David's reciprocation. Did that matter? Not on Bobby's end. After all, he had told David that he'd take him any way he could, including second place to Nick. If they were together, that was all that mattered; it was what Bobby wanted, although it wasn't what he wanted at all, and he could live with that.

As though David could read his mind, he broke the kiss.

Bobby's first fear was that David had changed his mind, but the other man didn't remove his hands from Bobby's body and he didn't push him away, either. As a matter of fact, his eyes met Bobby's and he said, "This isn't what you think."

Bobby was instantly alarmed. What did he mean by that? This was as far as they would go? One kiss behind his truck? He was happy for the kiss, utterly grateful he was allowed the experience. That didn't make the words any less terrifying.

"You aren't rebound," David clarified. "The last thing I want is to use you, Bobby."

Bobby fought the nervousness that battled in his gut. "Oh. Then what am I?"

"You're whatever you want to call yourself," David replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "But you aren't some second choice. You've just… you've made things very clear."

"Is that good news for me?"

"Depends. If you consider dating me on a permanent basis good news, then yes it is."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then you're up the river without a paddle. I'd suggest you make the best out of the situation."

Bobby smiled, feeling light as he moved close to David, their foreheads touching, lips precariously close. "I think I can do that," he murmured.

David smiled and kissed him as the sun rose.

You are here, so am I
Maybe millions of people go by
But they all disappear from view
And I only have eyes for you.

-I Only Have Eyes for You, Frank Sinatra

FIN.